Roger is your favorite, and he revs my engine too. ;-) Here’s Roger immortalized in his black-and-white striped turtleneck, in all his lo-fi glory (possibly even no-fi). “I’m in Love with My Car” is a great song, I hope it’s one of your faves too. And even if isn’t, you can look at the graphic and sigh over lo-fi Rogah and his wondrous blond cartoon locks. ;-)
So! Based on what I found in your tumblr, I’m gonna close my eyes and make a couple of stab-in-the-dark recs for you.
Aja by Steely Dan. Reccing the entire album (seven songs). I...think you might like this? Or at least one or two of the tunes...? Maybe? My favorites of theirs aren’t on this album; F.M., which I love, and Dirty Work, which I looooove. Any Major Dude Will Tell You is also good.
Walk Away Renee, by the Left Banke, covered here by the Four Tops. I love this song! Probably completely not your vibe, but possibly vibe-adjacent. :-) I’m reccing it anyway...and also the excellent original!
Ooo could I ask about a directors cut of In the Wings? That fic has made me see John in a whole new light (@queenmylovely)
A director’s cut 😂😂 look, a couple of people have asked for a sequel to In The Wings, and I’ve always said that it won’t happen, just bc I couldn’t picture how it would go. Also, I think people were perhaps after a smut scene that involved far rougher elements than I’m comfortable writing 🤔😫 but for you, @queenmylovely, perhaps I could come up with a director’s cut...
Congrats on 500! Can I get 9, 20, and 27 (fluffy) with my boy Pat? Thank you 💖 -@queenmylovely
thank you! 💗
9. “you have a tattoo where?” 20. “shut up and kiss me, you fool.” and 27. “it genuinely hurts to love you this much.”
the confessions
“you have a tattoo where?” you asked pat as you both sat in the red dust. it was after a game and pat was exhausted, so you both decided to bask in what was left of the summer’s day sun and sit on the field.
“it’s just on my wrist. take a look,” pat shrugged it off so nonchalantly. “just a number fifteen.” his number. at least it was something meaningful instead of just a tattoo.
“i love it.” you leaned over to look at. you were close to pat and it made your heart race. you and pat were just friends. best friend. and that was the problem. you wanted to be more then friends, but you didn’t know what he felt like.
“thanks.” he smiled and nodded, turning his head to the ground. he looked so cute sat in his dusty uniform. even after all these years, seeing pat in his uniform took your breath away. after the game, just before you went out onto the field, pat gave you his hat, saying you needed it more than he did. he thought you looked cute in his hat, but he wouldn’t tell you that.
a silence fell between you two, but it was a nice silence. as you looked off at the scenery, pat watched you, the sunset hitting you perfectly and making you look more angelic than ever. “it genuinely hurts to love you this much.” he mumbled.
“sorry, pat. what was that?”
“i said, it genuinely hurts to love you this much.” his voice was still quiet, but you caught every word that he said. you couldn’t stop the grin that appeared on your face.
a/n: here we go! short and sweet to start bc I'm already 2 hours behind lmao
Next, Full List
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“Alright, babe, now as soon as this cream is hot enough, we’ll add it to the chocolate chips and mix it up and the ganache will be ready to dip the cookies in,” you said, diligently keeping your eyes on the warming cream. “Don’t you just love orange and chocolate-- Roger!”
Roger looked up at you, eyes wide and mouth full of chocolate. He just looked startled, not even having the decency to look sheepish as he continued chewing.
“Stop, oh my gosh! Roger, we needed that chocolate for the cookies! Why do you think it was on the counter in a bowl? Measured out?” you asked in exasperation.
He took a full 15 seconds to finish chewing and swallowed before saying, “...Can’t I just measure out more?”
You rolled your eyes, “That would be perfect, except that was our last bag of chocolate chips.”
This time, Roger did look sheepish. He stayed still for a minute and then walked over to where you were leaning against the counter.
He lowered his head so he could look up at you with puppy dog eyes, “Can I kiss it better?”
You couldn’t help it and you laughed, shaking your head, but still moving your hands to his face and bringing it close to yours, “Only if you go to the store and get me more.”
Roger frowned, “But it’s cold outside and there’s so many better things we could do with that time before Freddie’s party,” he turned his head to kiss your palm. “Besides, aren’t orange shortbread cookies good enough on their own?”
It’s obvious what he’s trying to do, and on many occasions, you would have let him make it up to you with soft kisses, on your mouth and elsewhere, but since these cookies were something you had been promising the others you would bring, these specific cookies, you had to sigh and say, “No, no baby, you need to go to the store.”
Roger pouted because he had already been thinking about the ways he could make it up to you and had been getting excited. Then another second went by and he brightened up, “This is gonna be the fucking fastest pop down to the store there’s ever been, and when I get back, I’m making it up to you. I don’t give a fuck if we’re late to Fred’s party.”
You laughed again and he cut it off with a quick, breath-taking kiss that tasted like the chocolate he had been eating. Roger pulled back and pressed another little peck to your lips, and by the time you took a breath and opened your eyes, he was halfway out the door.
Summary: Roger Taylor x fem!reader. A party leads to some mutual feelings, but are they good or bad?
Word Count: 2k (shorty to start)
Warnings: cussing, ire; it’s a modern, uni au fyi
A/N: it’s here! part i of my 1k follower celebration is ready for the lot of you. I cannot say how many parts there will be, but I think the next part will be up in the next week or so. I’m already in love with the whole dynamic of this group and we have some exciting reveals coming up for what won the most votes! (at this point I’d say it’s obvious most people voted for Roger lol) Please lmk what you think with feedback, I’d love to see reactions to how the story starts!
Part II, Part III, Part IV, Masterlist
(young babes)
☀️☀️☀️
If you had to pick one person in your art history class to never, ever see again, you didn’t even have to think. Roger Taylor. Not that anyone would ask you, or you would ever have the chance to choose, but just in case, you had your answer at the ready.
You just couldn’t stand him, the way he talked and acted like everything-- everyone-- was a game. Constantly telling jokes, flirting with every single girl he came across, and basically never taking anything seriously. It bothered you endlessly, especially when he focused any of that sort of attention on you. It felt completely ungenuine, and you didn’t like wasting time on fake people of any sort.
Not that you had to worry too much about that attention anymore. Now the most attention he gave you was a returned glare of a glance as you passed each other in the hall or a muttered “excuse you” if you bumped him on the way through the door to your seats.
_____
The mutual dislike had developed about two weeks ago, at a start of the term party at your apparently mutual friend’s flat. In fact, it turned out that you not only had one mutual friend, but three. It had been at Freddie, with a newly minted last name, Mercury’s place. The two of you had become fast friends when you ran into each other three times in one day at three different niche boutiques. He had declared that you had to go to dinner together to talk about your obvious shared interests, and you had a standing dinner date every week.
You had arrived at the party to find it already full-on. The apartment was filled to the brim with people, and you couldn’t believe there hadn’t already been a noise complaint, but then again it was student housing so maybe everyone who would’ve complained was already here. Luckily, there seemed to be a few people you knew other than Freddie, so you grabbed a drink and chatted with a few of them until Freddie found you and pulled you away.
“Now dear, you remember that little band thing I’ve mentioned? Well it’s a little more official now, we’ve chosen a name, and I’d love you to meet them!” Freddie explained as he led you through the party, not really waiting for a response before continuing on.
When he pushed you out of the window, the only thing that kept you from fucking up your knees on the fire escape were two slender hands that caught and held on to your wrists, helping you up.
You looked to thank whoever it was, realizing with a shock that it was that prick Roger from your art history class. Pulling your hands back quickly, you mumbled a thanks before turning around to yell at Freddie.
“Help me through, darling, I don’t want to fall like you did,” he said, offering you a hand daintily through the window.
“Not right now, Fred, I have to regain my balance because someone shoved me through a window without warning,” you crossed your arms and turned away.
“I’ll help you Fred,” you heard from Roger, but your focus was elsewhere when you saw the two other people on the fire escape landing.
“Deaky? Brian?” you exclaimed with amazement, pulling each towards you in a hug while they laughed in surprise.
The fact that John Deacon (Deaky as you were told to call him) and Brian May were friends with Freddie, and most of all Roger, took you completely by surprise. Also the fact that they were in a band altogether was mind-boggling.
You had met Deaky at roller-disco night at the local roller rink. The two of you were among the youngest to attend, other than the kids, so had become friends easily since it was easy to talk and skate at the same time. He had also taught you how to dance the foxtrot while skating, so you had a lot of respect for him.
Brian you had met at the library, which quickly turned into being study-buddies because you both had demanding majors. You mainly hung out while studying, but you made sure to get Brian out of the library every six hours or so to get food or some coffee.
“So you’re the friend that Fred always returns from with new plans for the band,” Brian guesses and all five of you laugh.
You accidentally catch Roger’s eye, but look away, a bit of a frown forming before you find something else to think about. “So what name is it then? Is it any of the ones I came up with?”
Freddie shared a cheeky glance with his bandmates before looking at you with a happy smile, “In fact, it was one of mine. We went with Queen.”
Gasping excitedly, “Oh my gosh, yes, that was my favorite!”
“Your favorite wasn’t one of your own?” Roger asked with a chuckle.
“No, I know something good when I hear it,” you said with just enough of a smile left in your voice to remain polite. Returning to a full grin you said, “That’s so exciting! And now I know that I know all of you, you better expect me to be your absolute number one fan!”
“Oh we definitely will. We can utilize that enthusiasm with roadie duties,” Deaky said dryly and you laughed, hitting his shoulder lightly.
“Or groupie ones,” Roger said with a laugh.
The rest of you told him to shut up simultaneously, so you were able to hide your derision in the humor of their voices.
Even so, Roger was beginning to pick up on the way you were reacting to everything he did and said. Especially compared to the others. As the group headed inside to get out of the rain that was starting, he tried again to help you through the window, but you just pushed past him to ask Deaky. Roger frowned at that. He had figured out you knew the others better, but he had always thought you had been friendly acquaintances in your class now and previous ones. He certainly tried to talk to you more than the other people in class when he could, even though you typically sat on the other side of the room.
Maybe you were just having an off moment. Although, if that were the case, you wouldn’t be so happy with the rest of the group. Maybe you were recently screwed over by a blonde and were associating the experience with him?
Roger decided that he would just ask you; you were being kinda rude at this point, and if it was his fault, he would figure it out, if not, he could be rude right back.
He found you getting a refill of your drink.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” he asked, touching your shoulder to get your attention.
You turned toward him sharply, letting his hand fall, “You just did.”
Roger let out a weak laugh, but you didn’t really seem like you were joking. “I was just wondering if there’s some sort of problem between us?”
Huffing out a sigh, you crossed your arms, still holding your drink in one hand, “What kind of problem?”
“Well you just seemed to be acting differently towards me than the others,” he explained.
“Listen, I pride myself on being pretty polite in general, so maybe let’s not do this at our friend’s party,” you suggested, taking a step away.
“Do what?” Roger was confused, and starting to get annoyed by the way you were beating around the bush.
You decided you would just cut to the chase, looking him up and down with doubt, “Honestly, I’m just surprised that they’re all such good friends with you.”
Roger was thrown by the sudden answer that didn’t seem wholly connected to what you were talking about and the scornful way you were looking at him and got defensive, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“They just seem like really genuine people, that’s all,” you shrugged, turning your head away dismissively.
Roger inhaled deeply, anger stirring in his chest. Who were you to insinuate anything about him? He took two steps towards you, “Fuck off, you don’t know anything about me.”
“Exactly, does anyone really?” you returned with a challenging look, closing the distance by another two steps.
The two of you stared at each other, and you were unable to tear your eyes away from the intensity of his eyes. You were almost able to feel the heaving of his chest in time with yours, you were so close, and his hot breath was making your face warm, although that was also attributable to your anger. Roger was the first one to break eye contact, hazarding a glance to your lips. You noticed, a bolt of heat, surely from the anger, going through you and before you could help it you looked down at his mouth too.
You had no idea what was going to happen next, neither of you moving or speaking. Turns out you wouldn’t ever know.
“Is everything okay…?” Brian interrupted and both of you looked up at him. He was standing there with an empty cup, just trying to get a refill when he came upon the somewhat frightening scene of the two of you staring each other down.
“Yeah fine,” you said quickly before walking away into the crowd.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Roger said shortly, pouring himself a shot, downing it, and walking away before Brian could even say anything.
“Bri, why would you do that?”
“Geez, Fred, don’t sneak up on me like that,” Brian scolded Freddie gently.
“I’ve been standing over here for the past five minutes, watching the scene you just broke up,” Freddie defended.
“They looked like they were going to kill each other!” Brian exclaimed.
“They looked like they were going to fuck,” corrected Freddie with a shake of his head.
Brian was incredulous, “You can’t possibly think--”
“I’m with Fred on this one, mate.”
“Deaky, dammit, not you too,” Brian said, pressing a hand to his chest to calm his racing heart. “y/n didn’t even seem like she could stand Roger when we were out on the fire escape.”
“That’s just some misplaced sexual tension. If they’d fuck, it’d get out of her system,” Freddie reasoned and Deaky nodded along.
“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but you two need to get lives,” Brian said disbelievingly.
_____
Ever since the party, the one-sided attention from Roger had completely stopped. He was equally as surly as you were sardonic, as equally callous as you were cynical.
Today, on your way to your seat, you had been looking at the white board for announcements when you ran smack into someone. Both of all of your things went flying, and you turned to apologize before you saw it was Roger.
You scoffed, “Excuse you.”
“How about you watch where you’re going?” he snarked, but you both dropped to your knees to collect your things.
Class was set to start, so your professor told you both to keep picking up your things but listen to what she was saying as you did. You both tried to be quiet to keep from disrupting.
“Alright, exciting news today, we have finalized our choice of where to go on the optional autumn break trip. We’re going to the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Italy!” she announced, excited gasps coming from all around the room.
“Italy?”
“Italy?”
You and Roger spoke at the same time, making eye contact with an excited smile. It remained that way for the half second before you each realized who you were looking at and turned away. You both grabbed the rest of your things and went to your seats on opposite sides of the room.
The professor allowed the class to chat excitedly for a few minutes before getting back into the details. Your friends weren’t quite as eager as you since they had been expecting Paris, and the smallest part of you wished you could discuss your excitement with someone who shared it. Someone like Roger.
☀️☀️☀️
series taglist: @goodoldfashionedloverbelle @youngpastafanmug
Summary: Roger Taylor x fem!reader. Fundraising will raise funds, but will it raise your opinion of Roger?
Word Count: 5.2k
Warnings: cussing, weed use, drinking
A/N: second part!! things escalate but also de-escalate and we get some good interactions with all of the boys. So far, we know it’s with Roger and starting as enemies, but what else did you guys vote for? As always, feedback is heavily appreciated 💖
Part I, Part III, Part IV, Masterlist
(this is the jacket from the rummage sale)
☀️☀️☀️
Right away, there started fundraising efforts for the trip. While the final cost ultimately fell to the students, if you raised money together, there would be a discount for all. There were ten total students going: you, Chandice, Rosie, Roger, Carter, Ayesha, Mandela, Parker (who everyone called PK), Elijah, and Elise. During the first meeting outside of class for the trip, the ten of you signed up, including who you wanted to room with if applicable. Rooms were two apiece, and since you were friends with two other girls (Chandice and Rosie) in the class, you rock-paper-scissors-ed for who would have to room alone or be put up with someone else randomly. You lost, so you didn’t put a preference, figuring you’d most likely be placed with one of the girls you didn’t know as well.
After signing up, the group focused on what types of fundraisers to do. Eventually you came up with a car wash, bake sale, and rummage sale. Since it was September, the car wash was planned for five days later, Saturday afternoon when hopefully the weather would be okay. You were debating with Rosie and Chandice about whether it would be warm enough for swim suits when Professor Haus pulled you aside.
“So, I was just looking over all the sign-ups and it seems we have a question,” she was leading you over to Roger who was leaning back against the wall, arms crossed and looking at one of his hands. She stopped about ten feet away and your heart rate sped up, dreading any conflict that was about to arise.
Prof Haus was about to be your executioner, you could tell, and you watched her gesture to Roger as if in slow motion, “You two are the only ones to sign up without anyone else. That means you’ll each have to pay for a room on your own. Now, since we’re a co-ed university and this trip is elective, you two would be allowed to bunk together and save on money. This is completely up to the two of you, though, I want you both to be comfortable with any decision.”
You didn’t say anything for a few seconds, unable to process exactly what she had said to you and what it meant. When you took too long, she lightly grabbed your elbow and led you the rest of the way over to Roger.
“Go ahead and talk it over, you two. I’ll be at my desk once you’ve made a decision, and it does need to be today. If we wait longer the rates will go up,” Prof Haus smiled pleasantly as if she hadn’t just doomed you to the worst fate imaginable.
Once she walked away, Roger stood up straight, taking a step towards you. You stopped yourself from taking a step back.
“Listen, obviously this isn’t ideal. We both know that neither of us are happy about this situation. I mean, literally anyone else would’ve--” Roger saw the daggers you were shooting him. “Regardless, I’m willing to do it if you are. It’s just for sleeping really, and to be honest, money’s kinda tight at the moment with all the band stuff, so this would work.”
Bringing your hand to the bridge of your nose, you gave yourself a little massage to try to prevent a headache from the thought of sharing a room with Roger for a week. When you thought about it, it did make sense. You were also tight for funds; you were planning on living on ramen for a month just to afford the trip in the first place, and really couldn’t afford to pay for a room on your own, no matter how well the fundraisers went. Taking in the biggest breath you could, you blew it out through your mouth before looking at Roger.
“Okay, yeah, we can share a room. Let’s go tell Haus,” you started to turn but Roger grabbed your bicep.
You glared at him and he let go, gesturing at you, “That. We need to address that. If we’re going to be sharing a room, I need to have reassurance that you won’t kill me in my sleep, and I’m sure you’d like the same.”
Roger cracked a smile at his joke, but you just saw it as another thing he wasn’t taking seriously. You kept your face impassive.
“Fine, we can have a truce during the trip.”
“Great,” Roger said, sticking his hand out for a shake with more enthusiasm than the situation warranted.
“I’ll shake day of.”
With that, you really did turn, walking over to Prof Haus without waiting for Roger. He was left there with his hand out, which he quickly dropped, a frown taking over his face at your attitude, until he reached the desk and adopted a pleasant look for the professor.
_____
Saturday you showed up at the largest parking lot on campus at noon, wearing your swimsuit underneath a light blue t-shirt and some jean cut-offs. You had a tote bag with a towel, snacks, your water bottle, and a dress in case you wanted to change after. Once you got to the rest of the group, you said hello and started chatting while you waited for the first cars to come through. Chandice and all of the boys had opted to wear the same as you, though some guys were wearing swim trunks. But Ayesha had worn a one piece with jean shorts while Rosie and Elise had worn their bikinis with jean shorts. You and Chandice commended them for their bravery considering it was only 70 degrees out.
Before long, there was a small line of cars waiting to be washed. The guys did most of the work while the girls handled the money and talked to the customers. It was a tad exploitative, but everyone was happy to let horny college guys pay a little extra for a decent car wash and a chat with a pretty girl, especially because the tips were to be added to the fundraising total.
Around 2:30, halfway through, a big black van pulled up and you ran to the passenger side window, recognizing who it was.
You knocked on it until it rolled down, saying with a smile, “Hey, come to get your car washed or just to see me?”
Deaky laughed brightly, “Both, of course.”
Brian was driving so you told him to pull into one of the spaces and then all get out.
Walking off to the side to let the guys get started washing, Freddie leaned over to you and half-whispered, “Looks like we’re losing Brian to the girls.”
“Oh no, Brian wouldn’t be interested in--” you turned to prove yourself right but saw instead that Brian was indeed being led away to the cash table by Elise. He seemed happy to follow wherever she wanted, nodding along to what she was saying with a slightly dazed smile.
Deaky interrupted your confusion, “So how’s it going? Have there been a lot of people? Are you charging enough?”
“That’s Deaky for you, always worried about the finances,” Roger quipped and Deaky let out a sarcastic laugh. “So y/n, are you just shy or is it too cold for you?”
“Excuse me?” you asked off-handedly, reaching into your bag for your water bottle.
“Well the other girls are wearing swimsuits, so why aren’t you? I’m sure you’d look great in one.”
“Shut up, Roger,” you, Freddie, and Deaky said in unison.
“Hey y/n, can you come take a look at this?” Carter, one of the washers, called you over and you walked to him.
“Why are you like that, man?” Deaky asked in exasperation.
Roger frowned at him, “What do you mean?”
“Roger, dear, if you want her to like you, you should talk to her like a person,” Freddie said gently.
“I don’t want her to like me, fuck that. She’s the one that’s always rude to me anyway,” Roger huffed.
“You were the one just complimenting her, although in a totally sleazy way,” Deaky pointed out.
“That’s not-- that was a joke--”
“WET T-SHIRT CONTEST!!”
Everyone’s heads snapped over just in time to catch Brad, some guy you knew from around campus but that wasn’t in your class, completely soaking you with a bucket of water he found on the ground.
“What the fuck, Brad?!” you yelled in frustration, quickly realizing that everyone’s eyes were on you, and your now transparent t-shirt.
Without thinking twice, Roger looked down, saw your bag, grabbed your towel, and ran over to you, unfolding it and wrapping it around your shoulders.
Shocked, you whispered, “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Roger returned just as quiet. Then he looked around until he found one of the coolers that had been filled with drinks but was empty now except for the icy water. He lifted it, carrying it over to where Brad was with his back turned, laughing with some friend at his “prank.” Roger dumped the ice water onto Brad, waiting until he turned around in shock to spit out, “Cool the fuck off.”
By that time, Freddie, Brian, and John had rushed over to you with your bag and were all fussing over what had happened like a trio of mother hens.
“Do you have something you can change into?” John asked, pragmatic.
“Yes, you’ll catch your death in these soaked clothes,” Brian worried.
“Oh dear, your outfit was so cute too,” Freddie lamented with a little pout.
You chuckled at their responses, pulling the towel tighter around you with one hand and reaching for your bag with the other, “Yes, I have something else I can wear. Now I just need somewhere to change.”
“You can use the back of the van, no one can see in because the windows are dark,” Brian offered.
You shot him a smile, “You’re a lifesaver.”
The four of you walked over to the van and you climbed in the back. You changed as quickly as you could, balling up your wet clothes in the towel and pulling the dress over your head. As you opened the back door and John gave you a hand down, you saw that Roger had joined the others in standing guard outside of the van.
Two hours later, the boys were still there as everything was being packed up. You had been chatting with Freddie and John (and Roger was there too) when you weren’t busy, and Brian had been talking to Elise almost the entire time, still with that dazed smile on his face. You really hadn’t expected him to be the kind to get dumbstruck by a hot girl, but there he was.
Once everything was packed up, you and Chandice counted up the money, figuring out that everyone would get $100 off the trip with just that one fundraiser. Everyone cheered and the pub was suggested for celebration, but you declined, wanting to get out of your swimsuit which was still damp and sticking to your skin.
You were saying goodbye to the boys when Brian came over, looking over his shoulder at Elise, “Elise and I are going for a drive, so I’m gonna need the van.”
“What and just leave us here?” John asked incredulously.
“Can’t you just go on a walk?” Freddie hoped.
Brian shot him a look, “C’mon guys.”
“Um, I can give you guys a ride if you need it,” you spoke up.
“Great, see you guys later,” Brian said, patting your shoulder before hurrying off to where Elise was waiting by the van.
You watched him go, a dumbfounded look on your face.
“What’s that look for? Didn’t think he’d make us take you up on your offer?” Freddie asked, elbowing you lightly in the side.
“No, I’m just surprised that he’s going off with this girl he hardly knows,” you admitted.
“He’s got a life outside of studying you know,” Freddie reasoned.
“Guess I just never really thought about it like that.”
Freddie hooked his arm to yours, “C’mon lovie, let’s get us home so you can go and change out of those wet clothes.”
_____
The bake sale was up next and the night before you had Deaky over to help you bake some things after he had offered to as long as he got to taste test and got a discount the next day. You were glad for the help because baking always seemed rather daunting and you figured John’s organized way of doing things would help.
Everyone had decided on what they were bringing the week before at the car wash so there would be no overlap and plenty of time for planning. You were tasked with making two types of cookies, chocolate chip and sugar, because they were simple and other people would bring fewer but more complex and therefore pricier items.
As soon as he got there, Deaky made you get out the butter to soften and started measuring out the different ingredients so they would be ready as soon as you needed them. While the two of you did that, you started catching up a little.
“So the trip is to Italy, yeah?”
“Yeah, the Uffizi Gallery in Florence will be our main focus but there are other museums there that we can check out on our own since we’ll be there for a week. Plus it’s fucking Italy so it’s not like we’ll run out of things to do,” you said excitedly and John chuckled.
“You sound just like Roger, he’s really buzzing about this trip,” John told you.
Sighing quietly, you tried not to let the mention of Roger bother you, especially because you knew part of being friends with everyone in his band meant you had to deal with him coming up in conversation or in person pretty often, “Can’t blame him.”
John stared at you as you measured out the flour, pouring it into a medium bowl off to the side. He was studying your face and thinking about what you said, carefully considering his response before speaking, “Why… don’t you like him?”
This time the sigh was louder, “He just rubs me the wrong way. Always making stupid jokes and acting as if the whole world loves him just for existing.”
Deaky nodded slowly before rebutting, “I see your point. But as obnoxious and vain as he can be, Roger is actually one of the most well-informed, considerate, and loyal people I know. If he’s given the chance to be.”
You pursed your lips together, not sure what to say to that because you weren’t sure you could believe it. Not that you thought John would lie, but more like that was something reserved for a select few friends that Roger wouldn’t ever offer to you.
John broke the tension by leaning in, “But don’t ever tell him that because he’ll just be more cocky and insufferable than he already is.”
The two of you laughed and then moved onto other topics. Before 10:00pm John was leaving, all of the cookies made and up to his standards. You thanked him with a hug and a promise of a friends and family discount at the sale.
___
The bake sale went well; you guys sold out of all but a couple of the most expensive things and one chocolate chip cookie. It resulted in another $50 or so off the cost, adjusting for money spent on actually making everything. Done around 2:00pm, with the money counted and everything packed away, the group decided to go to a local pizza joint for some lunch. Well, everyone except Roger who had band practice. Let’s just say you weren’t sorry to see him go. Since it was a Saturday afternoon, and no one had to go anywhere, everyone ended up staying there for a few hours, just having a good time and goofing around.
Somewhere around 3:30pm, a group of guys walked in and you hardly noticed until you heard one of them call the cashier “darling.” Your head whipped to the side, seeing three of your favorite people on campus, and one other one who you knew. Jumping up, you called out to them and ran over, three smiling faces greeting you and one other one that also looked surprisingly happy.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, directing your question to Brian because both John and Freddie were still in the middle of paying.
“Well everyone talking about this place made me really want pizza so I told the guys and they agreed that we should get it after practice. Didn’t expect you’d all be here though,” Roger answered and you looked at him as he spoke.
“Oh, that makes sense,” you said, all of the enthusiasm washed out of your voice, but you were trying to be at least a little polite. Once the other two appeared, you gestured to them all, even Roger, “Wanna come sit with us? We’re mainly just hangin’ out now, but we’ll gladly watch you eat.”
They all laughed, even Roger, his gaze lingering on you for just a second longer than he meant it to, but you didn’t notice. You led them over to the table, introducing them as your knights in shining armor because of the car wash incident, which had been quite the topic of discussion at the meeting the previous Monday. Both you and Roger refused to think about the fact that of your knights, he was definitely the shiniest.
By 4:00pm, you were getting some looks from the kids on shift and decided it was time to leave. Carter and Mandela (who were roommates as well as classmates) invited everyone over for some recreation, but Rosie, Ayesha, PK, and Elijah had other plans for the night. They had invited the band boys as well, and since they had the van, you offered to go with them because the other car would be packed with the bake sale stuff and the others. Elise also offered to ride in the van, though her motivations seemed much more centered around a particular curly headed boy than yours had.
You ended up in the back with Freddie, Deaky, and Roger laughing about the overt and slightly awkward flirting that was going on in the front seat. It was a short drive thankfully; you were sitting on the tiny bench of the van surrounded by instruments that could’ve fallen on you at any time and were glad to get out of there.
This time, it was Roger who gave you a hand out of the van, and when you felt his warm hand against yours, you might’ve gotten stuck and stayed like that, except Freddie was right behind you demanding you help him down as well.
“I usually sit in the front with Brian and these platforms are not made for crawling out of the backs of vans,” he explained.
“There, you’re safely down now. Let’s head in,” you gestured to the other car where everyone had just gotten out and started walking towards an apartment building across the street.
In a few minutes, all nine of you (including the queen boys) were in the living room, trying not to bump into each other as you found places to sit because it was slightly too small for the number of people. It was all figured out when Elise offered to sit on Brian’s lap, and you and Chandice decided to sit on the rug by the coffee table.
Carter came from the kitchen with a tray of brownies, sporting a giant grin, “We’re right on time.”
You checked your watch, 4:20pm, and laughed to yourself.
“I thought we sold out of brownies?” Chandice said, confused.
“These aren’t the type of brownies you can sell at a bake sale,” Mandela told her.
She nodded in recognition, “Ohh.”
“Alright everyone, they’re pretty strong, so don’t take more than one square if you don’t wanna get fucked up and feel like you’re dying,” Carter warned everyone, grabbing a square for himself.
Chandice looked a little apprehensive so you offered, “Do you wanna split one with me? It’ll be enough to feel something but not go overboard.”
She nodded gratefully and you took a square, splitting it in half and letting her choose which she wanted. You ate slowly, trying to actually enjoy the brownie since you wouldn’t be having another one.
“What’s up, Roger, don’t you want one?” Mandela asked him, noticing he was the only one (aside from Brian who was the dd) that didn’t have one.
“Nah, I’m good,” Roger replied.
“What, you don’t think Carter knows how to bake a brownie?” you challenged through a mouth half full of brownie, everyone laughing at your accidental pun.
“Just don’t like how it makes me feel,” Roger shrugged, clearly annoyed that you were pushing the topic.
“Suit yourself,” you rolled your eyes, leaning back on your hands, brownie all gone.
“We have a couple beers in the fridge if you want, dude,” Mandela offered.
“Thanks, I’ll grab one,” Roger stood up from the couch, but before he left, John, with a mouth completely full of brownie, held up a finger and Roger nodded.
He came back with two cans of beer, and you frowned, wondering what the second one was for. Roger passed it to Deaky and then reached in his pocket for something. He pulled out a pocket knife and flipped it open.
“Wanna shotgun?” Roger asked and Deaky nodded, pulling out his own pocket knife.
You watched with fascination and horror as they both punctured the sides, tilted the cans up, and opened them, guzzling the beer faster than you could say acid reflux. It wasn’t the first time you had ever seen someone shotgun a beer, hell you had even done it once or twice, but to see John “Deaky” Deacon doing it was blowing your mind.
You crawled on your knees over to the chair where Brian and Elise were and tapped his arm until he looked away from her lips and towards you. Because he was sober you thought he’d be able to give you a good explanation, as long as he wasn’t too drunk off of Elise just yet.
“Is Deaky going to be okay?” you whispered, hoping you were actually quiet.
“What do you mean?” his face awash with confusion.
“He just scarfed down an entire brownie to himself and then immediately shotgunned a beer! Can he handle being crossed?” you asked, glancing over to the subject of your conversation, who seemed blissfully unaware as he chatted with Roger and Freddie.
Brian legitimately laughed, “Is this you being paranoid because you’re high?”
“What? No, I only had half a piece,” you frowned.
“y/n, Deaky has partied more than anyone else here, except Roger, not accounting for weed because Roger doesn’t like it. It would take an entire case of that fucking lite beer he’s drinking and the entire tray of brownies before I’d even start to be worried,” Brian told you, laughter still in his voice.
“Oh,” was all you had to say, and Brian turned his attention to Elise as you crawled back over to Chandice.
“What was that about?” she asked a little sleepily.
“Nothing, I was just worried about Deaky for a second, but Brian set me straight,” you explained. “I mean the man roller discoes, I just didn’t think he’d be the type of person to get crossfaded at 4:00pm.”
“Uh-huh,” Chandice mumbled.
You looked over at her, realizing she wasn’t paying attention to your rambling. She was laying on her back, looking up at the ceiling where Carter and Mandela had a tapestry that looked like a mandala.
Mandela has a mandala, you chuckled to yourself, joining Chandice on your back as you decided that staring at the ceiling was a much better use of your time.
_____
With the final fundraiser, a rummage sale, you hoped to get at least another $100 knocked off the price for everyone. That meant you were all Marie Kondo-ing the shit out of your closets, bookshelves, jewelry, shoes, and record collections. It was also suggested that you could all ask friends as well to see if they had anything they wanted to part with.
You had asked your two roommates, Mila and Cheyenne, and together they had filled one box, with the promise for a batch of chocolate chip cookies each because they had gone through the bake sale and said those were the best things there (that you’d actually be able to make for them). Thinking you could get more, you called up Brian and Deaky, asking them for things as well. It briefly crossed your mind that Roger could’ve beat you to it, but they didn’t say anything when you asked.
It was around 6:00pm on Friday evening when you showed up at Freddie’s flat, which you had learned at the end of the party all those weeks ago, was also Brian’s. You knocked and Freddie answered, saying hello with a big smile and hug.
He ushered you in, made you tea, and started asking about your day and telling you about his before he realized he didn’t know why you were there, “Wait, I didn’t invite you over, why are you here?”
“Way to make me feel welcome, Fred,” you laughed and he rolled his eyes. “I’m just here to pick up some clothes from Brian and then I’m heading over for the same at Deaky’s.”
At this, Freddie got up from his spot on the couch and walked into his bedroom, coming back in a second was a giant box full to the brim, “Clothes you say, what do you think about these?”
“Oh my gosh Freddie, that’s so much stuff!” you exclaimed, eyes wide as you rifled through the top few pieces, realizing that some of them were very high end and all of them were very beautiful.
“Now tell me why you asked Brian and Deaky, who are objectively more drab than I, for clothes but not me? Obviously Roger made up for it, but still, I require an explanation” Freddie asked with an arched brow.
You felt yourself shrink just a bit, “Well… I just thought that they’d be more likely to have things they’d be willing to part with. I guess I thought you’d not want to--”
“Not want to help out a friend and give away a few items of clothing? I don’t think I’m nearly as materialistic as you think, dear,” the last word was less affectionate and more pointed.
Your cheeks heated up with shame, “I’m sorry, Freddie. I guess I’m still just thinking about the guy I ran into in that boutique with an armful of clothes. But I know now that’s just one part of you, and that impression wasn’t even the full picture.”
“Thank you,” Freddie said, the warmth coming back to his tone. “I will admit that part of why I’m getting rid of this stuff is so I’ll have more room for new things, so you’re not completely wrong. You need to be careful with only letting one idea of someone exist in your head, though.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” you confessed with a frown.
But just then, Brian came bursting into the apartment, seeing you and apologizing for his tardiness. By the end of the night, you had a trunkful of clothes and other things ready to take to the sale for setting up in the morning.
___
The Italy Ten, as you had taken to calling yourselves, met at 9:00am the next morning. Everyone grumbled about being tired, but it was necessary to try to organize everything by the time it started at 11:00. The clothes were arranged by tops, bottoms, and full-length things which included dresses, overalls, and tracksuits. There was a bit of organization by size but since there were numbers as well as letters, it was too hard to do in just two hours when there was everything else to do as well.
By 11:00am, everything was ready; music was playing (managed by PK, the resident aspiring dj), the cash table/venmo station was ready (which would be run in shifts), and all the stuff was on the tables and racks. Chandice had even made regular brownies to keep at the sale table to tempt people as they paid for their things. You and she were on the first shift while Carter, Mandela, and Elise were in charge of attracting people walking by to come take a look, and Elijah was on duty to make sure things stayed mostly organized. Everyone else was on an hour break before all the positions would shift.
Two hours later, you were on your break and spent the first half running to the student union building with Chandice and getting food to go to eat on some tables in the quad next to the sale. Then you decided to take a look through everything, enticed by the thought of finding something new to you that wouldn’t be expensive.
You started with the music, picking out an Aretha Franklin record you couldn’t believe someone was selling. Then the jewelry where you found a cute necklace with a crescent moon pendant on it. Finally you came to the clothes. It was overwhelming, but considerably slimmed down since you started.
After a good 20 minutes searching, you got in line to pay, and you took the fact that you had to wait a full five minutes as a good sign. Roger and Ayesha were on cashier duty and Ayesha was thankfully free first. You showed her the price for the record and necklace, then held up the lettermen style jacket and silver embroidered top you had found.
“Aren’t these so cool?” you asked her excitedly and she laughed.
“You sure have an eclectic sense of style.”
“Well I obviously won’t be wearing them at the same time,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “I wonder whose they were.”
Next to Ayesha, Roger cleared his throat, “Um, they were both mine.”
“Yours? Not Freddie’s?” you clarified. You probably already knew the answer because if there was one thing you would silently admit to yourself is that Roger Taylor had a fucking good sense of style. But he didn’t need to know you thought that.
“What, you can’t believe I have the same taste as you?” Roger asked, defensive.
“Just asking, geez,” your voice was dripping with resentment.
Poor Ayesha had no idea what to do, especially because there was a line behind you.
Off to the side of the table, where they had been rifling through the box of records, John, Brian, and Freddie winced as the two of you nearly got into a shouting match.
“What the hell is going to happen on that trip?” John wondered, seeing the sparks flying between the two of you.
“They’re going to end up killing each other.”
“They’re going to end up fucking each other.”
Brian and Freddie looked at each other in confusion.
“Fuck each other?” Brian said in disbelief.
“Kill each other?” Freddie said doubtfully.
“Regardless, that truce is not going to work and I’m glad we aren’t going to be there two weeks from now when whatever shit that’s going to go down goes down,” John reasoned, and the other two nodded, watching the way the two of you glared at each other, now silent as you paid for your things and Roger rang someone else up. “Italy is not worth the headache.”
☀️☀️☀️
(and this is the embroidered jacket)
series taglist: @goodoldfashionedloverbelle @youngpastafanmug @kukkahattumursu
